


「Love, Truly」

by yuren



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alcohol, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Mild Language, Soft Miya Atsumu, Timeskip Spoilers, but a joy to write bc of how mindless it is, continuation of the oneshot as suggested by ao3 user hollypastl :'), kinda mindless ngl!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:00:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27798127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuren/pseuds/yuren
Summary: Inconsequential episodic adventures of being V.League player Miya Atsumu’s LDR girlfriend while having his brother Miya Osamu as your college roommate.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Reader
Comments: 8
Kudos: 62





	1. 『It’s Fengshui, Sweetheart』

Miya Atsumu is a trusting person. 

He trusts a grand total of two and a half people. You count as one, his high school captain is the other one, and his twin is the half. It’s not that he doesn’t trust Osamu; it’s just that Osamu only counts as half a person. But Atsumu trusts this half person wholeheartedly. 

So when you struggled to find a place to live after your second-year of college, Atsumu suggested that you move in with Osamu.

He made sure he was here to help you move in. 

He even proudly designed the furniture placement. 

“Atsumu, why is the bed there?”

“Huh?” He looks up from screwing a nail into an IKEA Bestå shelf, a grin instantly stretching across his face as you come in with a bottle of iced tea. “Whatcha mean, sweetheart?”

You sit next to him on the hardwood floor, unscrewing the bottle’s cap. “It’s sharing a wall with the bathroom?”

“Is that a problem?” He arches an eyebrow as he holds the bottle’s lips to his. Even as he smirks knowingly at you, your eyes stay glued to his long stretch of neck bobbing with the rush of cool tea. 

You’re about to answer him when he finally puts down the drink. But Osamu makes his entrance with a loud sigh. 

“It’s bad _fengshui_ , dumbass.” He sets down the desk he’s carried up to the third floor with ease. Third year varsity athlete, he's making good use of his muscles for you. “It’ll worsen her migraines.”

Osamu takes a sweeping look at the room that Atsumu designed. His verdict comes in an even more audible sigh and a dismal shake of his head.

“Mirror shouldn’t face her bed,” Osamu nods to the opposite wall, “bed shouldn’t be against the wall, and,” he pauses gravely, narrowing his eyes at the nightstand by the bed, “havin’ your photo there’ll give her nightmares.”

You burst out into laughter as Osamu smirks satisfactorily at his twin. Atsumu gives him the finger. 

“Boys, boys,” you grin, putting a soothing hand on Atsumu’s arm when he gets ready to throw the screwdriver at Osamu, “the last one probably only applies to Osamu, but he’s right about the others.”

Your boyfriend frowns as he leans into your hand, putting down the weapon. “When did the two of you get into this kind of stupid gimmick?”

“It’s neither stupid nor a gimmick, ‘Tsumu.” Osamu continues with rearranging the desk without so much as a glance at him. “It’s got its methods.”

“Yeah, Atsumu!” You grab hold of your boyfriend’s hand in excitement. “Osamu was telling me about how he’s slept so much better since coming to college. Said it was because he had to share a bunk with you?” 

Atsumu glares at his twin who only continues his work innocently. 

Unfazed, you also continue. “See, Atsumu, I looked it up, and it seems like bunks are a pretty bad idea. Bottom bunks will feel inferior to the top bunks.”

“I don’t feel inferior to this assface.”

“Unfortunately, we share the same face, dumbass.”

“They say you’ll start fights with the top bunker, too.” 

“Sweetheart, come on,” Atsumu whines. “He starts fights with _me_. Like he’s doin’ now.”

Osamu rolls his eyes and heads back out to bring in more of your belongings. “Y/n, make sure he rearranges your bed.” He wasn’t going to make you put bandaids on him and his twin on your first day as his roommate.

And as insufferable as his brother is, Osamu knows when to make himself scarce. 

Grateful for Osamu’s considerateness, you yank your boyfriend back before he can chase after his twin. 

“Atsumu, help me move the bed?” You grin at him as you stand up, dusting off your pants. 

“Sure, sweetheart.” He takes your offered hand and in a way that only his muscle senses can work, Asumu stands up without relying on you one bit and simultaneously pulls you into him. He catches you in his arms and smirks, “It all sounds very gimmicky but if you ask so nicely.”

You click your tongue, giving his butt a swat. “Hurry up, you ass.”

“And you love mine.” 

“I do,” you admit easily, slipping out of his arms and walking to the other side of the bed. “Count of three?”

Atsumu looks at you slightly alarmed.

“Wait, no, sweetheart. What’re you doin’?” He frowns. “I’ll call ‘Samu in.”

“It’s alright, I can carry this.” 

“No, it’s too—

“He needs a break,” you insist. “Come on, I’m strong enough.”

“Sweetheart.” He’s about to protest but then it dawns upon him. “Huh, you want to spend time with me, don’t cha?” 

When you don’t reply, his frown lifts into a smirk.

“You’re so cute,” he coos, pushing his slightly sweaty hair back. 

You cross your arms, an annoyed pout on your lips. “You are so fucking dense sometimes, Miya.”

“Hey hey, sweetheart. You’re the one who wants to spend alone time with me.” The way he enunciates ‘alone time’ makes you want to lovingly smack him in the face. “Since you have all of me to yourself now, come gimme a smooch.”

“Atsumu,” you huff, “get to work so I don’t have to suffer from migraines anymore.” 

“Nuh uh, you’re the one that wants alone time.”

Grinning at you lecherously, Atsumu stalks his way around the bed with his arms wide open. You hurry to sidestep from his incoming embrace, but he catches you, easily. 

“Caught ya,” he laughs, pressing a firm loud kiss to both of your cheeks as you squirm in his arms. But Miya 13 isn’t the youngest starting setter for the MSBY Black Jackal for no reason. He keeps you comfortably secure in his arms.

“Rearranging furniture is also alone time.” You resort to giving him your best angry face, one that Atsumu finds utterly adorable. “We can’t make Osamu do everything.” 

When Atsumu doesn’t reply immediately, you had a passing thought that you might’ve won this time around. But then you remember that your boyfriend is Miya Atsumu, and he had been sleeping in the bottom bunk until a few years ago. 

“‘Samu’ll do everything,” Atsumu comments breezily but you hear the edge. “He gets to spend time with you basically everyday now.” 

You sigh, relaxing in his arms.

“As nice as he is, I really don’t think he cares much for that.” Atsumu can be so unnecessarily stubborn sometimes. “Instead of using Osamu as a roundabout, just admit that you also want to spend alone time with me.”

You know you hit the jackpot when Atsumu's eyes narrow at you and his cheeks bloom pink. Chuckling lightly, you wrap your arms around him, interlocking your fingers at his spine as you have done so many times before. His soft breathing tickles your cheeks as he lowers his warm face next to yours, and you feel his pout seep into your skin, an admission of your limited time together. 

The sun feels warm on your back but no warmer than the body pressed against yours. Late afternoon, time is slipping past the edges of Tokyo’s heartbeat, Saturday. Atsumu rushed over late last night, and hasn’t stopped packing and unpacking for you. The weekend is growing shorter by the second. 

You can waste time. 

“Thanks for spending this weekend to help me move.”

Soft and a smile, you lace your adoration into this gratitude. 

“I wasn’t gonna let you move all by yourself.”

His rough voice traces temporary tattoos onto your skin.

“I have Osamu,” you chance. 

“Osamu isn’t me,” he mumbles back, indignation just barely noticeable. “And before you say anything, I don’t have an inferiority complex.”

“I know. There’s only one of you.”

“Damn right.”

“You’re a special one, Atsumu.”

He doesn’t need to respond. And you know he trusts you.

“Not many people will suggest their girlfriend move in with their brother,” you continue softly, “especially if it’s an LDR relationship.”

“It’s because it’s an LDR that I suggested this in the first place.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, if I can’t be here, the next best thing’ll be ‘Samu. Even if he’s a downgrade.”

You swat his butt as he chuckles quietly. 

“I’ll be okay, sweetheart.”

You sigh, pressing your face to his chest. There’s pride in his voice. 

“I love that you trust us so much — no, don’t give me that look.” You roll your eyes. He can’t see you, but it doesn’t matter. “You know you trust Osamu with your life so don’t even bother denying it.”

“But sweetheart, he gets to _live_ with you.”

“Two more years, love,” you hope you sound as peppy as you think you do. “Two more years, and I’ll be moving in with the other Miya.”

“I’m The Miya.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Come on, sweetheart,” he groans, “humour me a little.”

“No, right now I’ll be living with Osamu. I don’t need to get on his bad side.”

Atsumu straightens up at this. 

“Sweetheart, if this is a fight for your affections, maybe I should consider moving to Tokyo.” The arrogance of this man, you can’t believe you stoked his competitive side again. “Think about it. Tōdai’ll love me. I’ll be better than ‘Samu and Omi-kun combined.”

“Don’t do that,” you sigh. “The Jackals are a good fit for you.”

“Is this _fengshui_ speaking?” Atsumu frowns.

“No, it’s me speaking,” you say with finality. “It’ll bring you good things.”

You feel a laugh rumbling from his chest. Atsumu pulls away from you, and you're faced with the biggest, most stupidly satisfied grin right in front of you.

“Sweetheart.” He looks you dead in the eyes. “Have I told you how much I fucking love you?”

Wrapping you in his arms again, you can only chuckle as he twirls you around the ten by ten room, careful not to let you hit any of the furniture. 

“No, not today.”

“Then I’m fucking stupid, but only in this regard.”

You give a snort of disbelief as he holds you in front of him again. 

“I love you, sweetheart.”

With the sun around him and the gold within him, he speaks with an honest love, a love you return just as easily. 

“I love you too, Atsumu.” You give him a firm kiss. “Now let me go so we can get to work. Then we can actually spend quality time together.” 

Not to be outdone even by his own girlfriend, he pulls you back in for a long, sun drenched kiss on your lips. 

Pulling away, Atsumu grins before letting you go. 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

**Bonus:**

Monday, 12:37pm. MSBY Jackals lunch break. 

“Oh, _fengshui_! I know _fengshui_ ,” Bokuto talks excitedly through a mouthful of salad. “Akaashi gave me a few charms! My hair only takes three tries in the mornings now!”

Atsumu jolts back — careful not to spill his soup — as his teammate shoves the top of his head towards him. 

The setter examines Bokuto’s hair with a critical eye. He is pretty sure that not only was this not the intended effect of Akaashi’s _fengshui_ items but also that Bokuto’s hairdo actually has Atsumu himself to thank. Just last month, after hearing Bokuto complain nonstop about the absurd amount of tries it took him to do his hair in the morning, Atsumu forcibly replaced his teammate’s soft clay for a hard one.

Before Atsumu can even begin to reason with Bokuto, their libero chimes in. 

“Akaashi-san did give us some tips on how to ward off injuries and sickness,” Inuaki laughs as Atsumu whips his head to him in disbelief. “Since we haven’t had any workplace injuries in over a month, maybe it’s working.” 

“Doesn’t he run a pretty popular _fengshui_ blog?” Shugo muses. “Maybe you can introduce it to your girlfriend, Atsumu. She gets pretty bad migraines, right?”

That evening, you receive an urgent text from Atsumu. He asks you to send him the link to your _fengshui_ bunk bed article. 

You happily comply. 

When Atsumu opens up the link, he doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry at this coincidence. He just thinks that this Akaashi Keiji — his airhead teammate’s best friend or something — is out to ruin his life. 

In a sports therapy clinic somewhere, Washio opens up a notification from his favourite blog while getting a post-training massage. It’s a new article: “ _Fengshui_ Hairstyle Tips for the Professional Volleyball Player”. After skimming it through, he forwards it to Raijin’s other middle blocker snoozing on the massage table next to him. 

Even later that evening, back in Tokyo, while looking over some last minute changes to this week’s Haikyuu chapter, Akaashi receives a notification for the article released earlier this evening. 

It’s a comment from a recent follower, The_Miya. 

“This week’s read was enlightening as usual. With the help of his girlfriend, I’m going to persuade my brother to dye his hair back to black as per your suggestion.”

With a soft smile, Akaashi dives back into his work. He is very glad that, like Haikyuu, his hobbies are also able to boost people’s lives, one week at a time.


	2. 『Curry? It’s Fragile』

It’s a fine Friday evening when Atsumu decides to call for the thirty-sixth time this week. Training six days a week, with only one Saturday off per month, the life of a professional athlete doesn’t make much time for a long distance girlfriend. But he tries his damn best. 

Freshly showered, carrying a mug of herbal tea, he settles down on his leather couch, now reorientated against the larger wall at your request. Facing the widescreen TV on the smaller wall, he runs a hand through his loose bangs as the other line picks up the video call.

“Hey sweetheart, how’s it goin’?” His smile immediately drops at the image on the TV screen. “Ew, it’s you. Where’d she go?”

“We have the same face, asshole.”

“No, mine’s superior.” Atsumu sticks out his tongue at his brother’s scoff. “So why am I talkin’ to you on what was supposed to be a beautiful Friday evening?”

“She’s on a date,” Osamu replies blandly, setting the phone on the kitchen shelf so he can continue stirring tonight’s curry. 

He almost knocks the pot over at the animalistic shout from the other end.

“ _What?_ ” Atsumu cries, shooting up from his seat, completely unaware that his tea had spilled all over the Italian leather. 

“I’m kiddin’,” Osamu winces, eyeing the frantic look on his twin’s face. “Holy cow, ‘Tsumu, you’re in deep.”

With a murderous glare that has long ceased its intended effects on Osamu, Atsumu snarls, slamming the mug onto the glass coffee table.  
  
“‘Samu, where is she?”

Osamu sighs, feeling both a little bad for his joke and a bit annoyed at his twin’s hedgehog hostility. “Doin’ her laundry.”

“Why do you have her phone?”

“I literally live here, ‘Tsumu.” He’s getting increasingly irked by Atsumu’s grilling. It’s not like he hadn’t seen this spark of insecurity coming from your boyfriend. As much as Atsumu will deny it, Osamu knows his twin. “Have a little faith.”

The setter only flops back onto his couch, drawing his legs up to his knees in a pout. 

Osamu returns to the curry, frowning as he tries to figure out what’s lacking. As he reaches for the bottle of cooking _sake_ , he spares a glance at the phone screen. 

“She said to keep an eye on her phone in case you call,” he offers. “She didn’t want the police to show up at our apartment if no one picked up.”

At these crumbs that Osamu finally acquiesces to him, Atsumu audibly exhales. 

“Yeah, okay, makes sense.” He nods satisfactorily as if calling the police on his busy girlfriend would be the most banal thing in the world. 

“No, it doesn’t, you dumbass.” Osamu rolls his eyes as he adds a bit more salt into the pot. 

Atsumu sits for a moment, watching his brother stir the mixture and tweaking this a bit more. 

After less than thirty seconds, the setter can’t bear the silence anymore. Osamu looks down at the screen; his brother is playing with the string of his tea bag in almost comical awkwardness. 

“So, call you back?” 

The awkwardness dials up even further. 

Osamu wants to punch him through your phone. 

“What the fuck, Atsumu,” he grumbles, setting down the ladle. “You honestly have nothin’ to say to me? Your own brother?”

The athlete scratches his head, racking his brain for something that’s happened in the past five days since he’s seen you and Osamu.

“Uh, I went to practice?”

“How thrillin’,” Osamu snorts, putting the cover to let the curry simmer. 

“You wanted to talk to me!”

Grabbing his glass of old fashioned, Osamu takes his time to settle into the well worn sofa he picked up from a graduated upperclassman. He considers the pouting face on your phone screen for a minute, and decides to bite the bullet.

“Have you eaten?” He maintains as disinterested a voice as possible. 

“No.” It’s still a stupid pout.

The punching will have to come later.

“Why not?”

“Practice ran late,” Atsumu groans, slouching down on the couch like a neon slinky. “Couldn’t get an approach with Bokkun right.”

With a sigh, Osamu props a feet up onto the couch. He looks at his brother’s furrowed brows and tired eyes for a moment before grinning. 

“You’ll figure it out.”

Tough love is Osamu’s signature towards his brother but he can see the tension dissipating from Atsumu’s frame. 

Satisfied, Osamu finishes his drink. In the background, he hears the faint sound of a door opening. 

Atsumu slides down the couch to sit on the floor. 

“She back yet?” His ears perk up at the sound of your unmistakable footsteps.

“Yeah, hold on.” Shaking his head, Osamu laughs softly. You balance out the blond Miya well but Osamu is still his twin. He still has one more tough love sentiment to dish out. “‘Tsumu, I know you’ve got your own nutritionist and all, but eat soon.”

There’s a pause from the other end. You poke your head in just in time to catch the ends of the conversation. 

“Sure, ‘Samu, sounds good.” 

Osamu snorts. His twin is trying so hard to sound casual but he doesn’t even need to look to know that there are damp eyes on the other end. You stifle your own giggle as well. 

Padding across the living room, you settle down on the couch next to Osamu. 

_“Atsumu?”_ You mouth. 

He nods, passing the baton to you. You smile as his face comes into view.

“Sweetheart!” Comes the immediate toffee flavoured tone, one reserved for you. 

Next to you, Osamu can’t help the ugly laugh that escapes him. 

Giving your roommate a playful glare, you nudge him lightly. “Go check up on the curry or something.”

Osamu grins, standing up and giving you a mock bow. “Careful with him. He’s fragile.” 

There’s some undefinable cursing on the other line as you laughingly shoo Osamu away before he can do any more damage to your boyfriend’s ego. 

Once you’re relatively alone with Atsumu, you lie down on your stomach, propping your phone up against the armrest.

“Hi.”

“Hi, sweetheart,” he grins back lazily, and you can’t help but giggle.

“How was practice?”

“It’s alright,” he starts off slow and casual. “Made some nice sets, played a few practice games, and did strength conditioning today. Let me tell you though, you know our captain, Shugo Meian, right? He did this awesome…”

As Atsumu tells you about his practice and team, you smile and nod along, asking questions every now and then — “Is Inuaki-san’s injury all better now?”, “Are you getting better at communicating with Barnes-san and Tomas-san?” 

And he continues to prattle off to you, any evidence of the dejectedness from his chat with Osamu erasing with each smile and grin. 

Just as Atsumu goes to get his scheduled meal delivery, you receive a text from Osamu: “you’re doing great, sweetie.” 

With a laugh, you turn to your roommate and personal chef, grinning as you see him turned towards the stovetop, pretending to be busy with the curry. 

“You know, Osamu,” you tease, “you can tell me that you were worried about him. I won’t tell.”

He scoffs, as he turns to you with an accusatory glare. 

_They really are twins_ , you can’t help but smile. 

“You won’t tell him now,” Osamu shakes his head, shaking his tasting spoon at you, “but sooner or later, you’ll side with him all the damn time. I know about you couples.” 

“Don’t worry.” Your reply is immediate. Sitting back up, you face him directly. “I’m too smart for that.” 

Osamu arches up an eyebrow. 

“If I end up coddling him every time,” you muse, “then this won’t work, and I want this to work.” 

Osamu arches up both eyebrows, staring at you for a long moment before letting out the breath he was holding. With an exasperated smile, he turns back to the curry. 

“Sounds good, Y/n,” he grins. “Just don’t break his heart. He’s fragile.”

He maintains as mellow a voice as possible, but to you, the twins are still similar in some regards.

“Yeah,” you reply simply. 

There is a vague grumble from your phone, and you turn back to the armrest to see Atsumu pouting his third-degree pout at you, or rather at your ass. 

“Sweetheart,” he frowns, “I love your ass but I wanna talk to your face.” 

From the kitchen, Osamu physically seizes up at his brother’s words, and you laugh. 

“I’m back,” you laugh, grabbing the phone and bringing it up to your face. “Did you prep dinner?”

A three-layered bento box is shoved into view, and you can see the insane variety of just the top layer already. Osamu walks over with your plates of curry, and hands it to you. 

“I’ve got my own food too.” 

With a grin, you show him your nicely plated dinner of curry and rice. There’s a groan from the other end. 

“Damn, that looks good.”

Osamu chuckles, scooping up a nicely balanced spoon to show his brother. “I made extra, so if you want to pay for shipping…”

“Deal. Send them tomorrow.” 

You frown at both of the twins, and they shrug at you, pointing to the other. 

“‘Samu’s the enabler.”

“‘Tsumu has money to waste.” 

“No,” you say with finalty. “Atsumu, you can get frozen portions the next time you come over.”

Atsumu gives you a small, childish nod. 

“And you,” you turn to your roommate beside you, “you can’t just offer up our weekly meals! We planned this.” 

“I would’ve charged him for it, Y/n,” Osamu says flippantly, resuming his dinner.

“Hey! You can’t do that!” A vehement protest comes from the other line. 

“And ‘Tsumu would’ve been stupid enough to pay up too,” he continues. 

“You fucker!” 

“Actually, Osamu, if Atsumu is willing to pay for this,” you pause to consider this, gears turning in your head, “we could probably sell this to Bokuto-san right? And Kageyama-san, too? Doesn’t he always talk about curry in interviews? And probably Ushijima-san as well.”

Osamu turns to you slowly, looking at you with newfound admiration. 

“Y/n.” The gears are turning in his business major head. “You’re right. We even have Aran, Suna, and Heisuke at our disposal. Think about the exposure.”

“You think Kita-san would be our rice sponsors?”

Ignoring the sputtering from your phone, you and Osamu look at each other with ear-splitting grins on your faces.

“I like the way you think, Y/n.”

“And I like that you think, Osamu.” 

No longer eating what could be your rags-to-riches curry, you and Osamu start talking logistics.

In Osaka, Atsumu is questioning his entire world at the moment. 

“Guys?” He cries, having abandoned his own dinner and is now shaking his sixty-inch TV. “You’re breaking my heart here!” 

Despair in his eyes, Atsumu’s wondering if he did the whole world a disservice by bringing the two of you under the same roof.


End file.
